


Knowledge Seeks no Man

by Moonfireflight



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 5.0 spoilers, Ascians (Final Fantasy XIV), Claws, Corruption, F/M, Fluff, I can't emphasize that enough, Love Triangle if you squint, Sensation Play, Shadowbringers Spoilers, Soul Sex, ambiguously placed in the timeline, and their outfits in general, appreciation of ascian claw gloves, break from canon, but with magic, fic inspired from a strange dream I had so it is what it is, inappropriate use of magic, not terribly explicit sexual content, the 'villain' wins, yep it's still fluffy due to centuries of pining and unresolved feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 10:16:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20241208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonfireflight/pseuds/Moonfireflight
Summary: I have no excuse for this other than I had a dream and I'm thirsty for Ascians.Moira, The Warrior of Light, is tired of not knowing the motives of her enemies, and can't stand that they know more about the blessing of the Echo than she does. Determined to get some answers, she hopes for an audience with one of them. Through his hands-on approach to teaching her about the Echo, Elidibus and Moira both recall something about their shared past.I consent to the OTW terms of service and explicitly deny rights to reprint, share, or redistribute this work on any platform not owned by OTW. #





	Knowledge Seeks no Man

"Dammit, I still don't understand!" Moira slams her book down on the desk, growling in exasperation as her quill falls to the floor. She glares as it rolls across the wooden floor, leaving a trail of black ink behind it. 

A scholar before a fighter, she hates not knowing her enemy. Information superiority is her weapon and she's losing this fight before it's started. When she thinks about what she knows of the Shadowless, it's like trying to carry sand in her bare hands. Every time she sits down to ponder what she has on them, all but a few scant grains seems to slip through her fingers. Hours ago she had woken from a dream where she had solved the riddle but forgotten it upon waking. Eschewing sleep, she gave herself only enough time to throw on her robe before sitting at her desk to pore over the same set of notes that had vexed her for days. 

She pushes her chair away from her desk, elbows on her knees and head in her hands, grumbling, "The Twelve take them and their bloody vague doublespeak." All around her are notes, scraps of paper with hints and arcane scribbles, penned in neat script marred by the occasional blotch of ink.

The words of the white-robed one replay in her mind, and she takes several deep breaths to quell her irritation. "Be rational. Think." Her former mentor's voice, echoed by that of the Mothercrystal, leaps to her mind. It annoys her more, but she knows the man’s imagined chiding is right. 

The Echo. That's her topic of frantic study tonight and what's keeping her from the rest she needs. In a vision granted by the same power, she heard this "Emissary" speak on the nature of that phenomenon. A blessing undoubtedly, it allowed her to anticipate her foes' attacks and learn some of their nature. It forced upon her scenes from the recent past as well. The pulsing headaches that accompanied those visions were worth enduring for the knowledge and insight it granted. 

Yet even with the Echo the Ascians were somewhat of a blindspot. 

"There would be no strife between our peoples- for we would be of one mind." Did he simply think that if she understood the reasons behind their actions that she would acquiesce to their campaign of meddling and murder? Or was there something more to it? 

If only she could get one of them to speak plainly. Perhaps if it was just her, without the frantic warnings from her peers… Yet who among the Ascians would be willing to speak to her? 

Moira stepped away from the disaster on her desk to get some fresh air. From her window, she could clearly see the star’s true moon, shining down on her in its fullness. The cool and silvery light stirred within her, waking something half memory, half plan. Perhaps it is his white robes or his seemingly calmer nature that guides her to choose him over his compatriots. He seems the diplomat of the group and the most willing to at least hint at the knowledge the Scions lacked. From his words, it seemed like this Emissary even wanted her to better understand the gift of the Echo. 

So there in the moonlight, she sent out her hope that he would contact her again on a peaceable playing field and give her some insight into the questions that plagued her. She would learn about this gift and her enemy, whatever it takes. 

The energy in her room shifts, seeming to prickle at her skin like the cold of night. Reality itself shudders and parts as inky black spills into her room like smoke from a hidden fire. The rift expands, blooming, until the mass of darkness rapidly coalesces into a humanoid form. Before her is Elidibus, his white robes flowing around him. He floats there for a moment, feet not yet touching the ground. He holds himself with a grace and majesty the leaves her more than a bit annoyed at herself for thinking so. 

Elidibus takes a step down and his boots settle on the wooden floor. Beneath his crimson beaked mask he smiles and bows before her. “It seems you are seeking answers tonight?”

She’s too surprised to even question how she managed to summon up an Ascian Paragon at a whim. That’s an entire set of questions for later, she decides, lest thinking on it too hard undo the spell. “Wait, let me get my book. I must needs take note of anything you are willing to tell me.” He watches her run to her desk, patting down a mountain of paper until she finds a quill underneath. Once book, quill, and ink are in hand, she turns to him. 

At the sight of her keen eyes, shining with intelligence and eagerness to learn, Elidibus feels a stirring in his chest. There’s something intensely familiar about her frantic scurrying and her inscrutable study habits. Strange, indeed, this one. Powerful enough to take down a Primal alone and to best Lahbrea in combat, yet right now she looks like nothing more than an eager student at the Akademia. 

He’s not used to finding himself at a loss for words, yet he is unsure where to begin. “If you please. What can you tell me of the Echo?” she prompts. 

He appreciates her willingness to learn more about her gift. It’s a particularly important line of thought after all. But… “For you, it has manifested as the inheritance of another’s memories, recent or long past, yes?” She nods at him tersely, clearly not appreciating the pre-lesson review. Elidibus smiles. “That is but the smallest facet of its power.” It wasn’t his intention to draw things out like this, but her frustration bemuses him, and the exercise is giving him time to think upon that earlier feeling. Perhaps there is a way to answer both of their questions at once. “The Echo has the power to break down the barriers between souls.” 

Moira’s pen flies across the page as she jots down his words, and she looks up at him, hoping beyond hope that he’ll share more of his vast knowledge with his foe.  _ Please, I know you want me to understand something. What is it, though?  _ Instead of answering, he moves to stand directly in front of her. “I appreciate your studiousness, but I fear this isn’t something that you will grasp from a lecture.” 

This close to him, she can see every detail in the metal accents to his long white robes, and marvels at the purple pattern on the front as it seems to shift colors before her. Beyond that, she can feel the power radiating off of him. It’s not the same pitch-black aether that she felt when facing Lahabrea. Instead, it feels colorless, without aspect, but no less intense. Her breath catches. “Is there… no more that you can tell me then? I…” She trails off, feeling like she’s flown too high on her chocobo, up where the air is thin and sanctuary only for the bravest cloudkin. 

He had meant to warn her first, but once he had touched her aether he became focused on solving the riddle of the Warrior. Behind his red mask, Elidibus shuts his eyes so he can focus on the shape of her soul, it’s flavor, it’s color.  _ What? How can this be? _

Even after twelve thousand years, he knows the color of that soul as well as he knows the well-tread halls of his study back in Amaurot. The hue was oft seen flitting around him, carried by one who loved to ask questions, filing away the answers in a notebook that bulged with the burden of holding scraps of paper with additional scribbles on them. It always looked like it was on the verge of bursting, and she was down to writing in the margins and between older notes. Perhaps he should craft her a new one. One with pockets for notes and something to hold her pens and… A silly thought. She needed nothing from him. Better to give the idea to Emet-Selch and let him take the credit and her adoration and… 

“Are you quite alright? Do you have a headache? Are you even corporeal enough to have one? No, no, that can wait. I’ll make a note to remember to ask that again later when…”

Elidibus opens his eyes and lets his hand drop from where it was pressed against his head. There was no pain with the memory, exactly, but it left him shaken. Here before him is the soul of the one he’d coveted for years and let slip through his hands, and she wants to learn about the Echo.  There was truly only one way to understand it, which would double as a test to see if her soul is intact enough to share the same memories. 

“My deepest apologies for worrying you, and I appreciate the concern.” Moira smiles up at him, seeming genuinely pleased. “Yes. If you wish to understand the Echo in more depth, I would be willing to show you.” He takes another step towards her and gingerly removes the book from her hands, being mindful of his metal claws. There’s an amusing flash of a frown across her lips as the book leaves her hand. Her eyes never leave the tome until it is safely on her desk. “Moira is the name you go by, yes?” 

“Yes?” The single syllable is filled with trepidation and irritation at his change of topic. 

He nods. “Moira.” The name hangs in the air around them, spoken like a spell. 

The churning fear in her belly clashes up against a flitting feeling in her chest, and she doesn’t know what to think. This close, he could crush her in an instant but there’s something delicate, porcelain about him. In her fascination, she doesn’t flinch when two of his gloved fingers come to rest beneath her chin, tilting her face to ensure his unseen eyes meet hers. “Will you trust me to show you what I mean?” 

This time, that same word, “yes,” is a breathy thing, speaking of curiosity that needs be sated. 

“Good. Close your eyes, and let yourself feel.” 

Elidibus closes his again as well, retreating behind the mask in full. The aether in his fingertips, at that point of contact between these two enemies, begins to flow forth, testing, seeking. The sensation is warm, an electric tingling against her skin, lapping at her neck, her cheeks. Her instinct is to fight against the intrusion, but surely he has no idea how… oddly sensual this would feel to her, right? Tendrils of aether, invisible to her eyes, creep up and down her arms, over her shoulders and down her back. “Wait… what is this?” she asks, her voice and body trembling. 

“You’re fighting me. You wrap yourself in the armor of fear and ignorance. If you wish to understand, you must drop your defenses. Let go.”

She tries to focus on the sensations but she’s too busy willing the thrumming of her heart to slow as every pulsation seems to be focused between her legs. Sure he’ll know what she’s feeling and filled with shame at the thought, she tries to turn away from him. His leather-clad fingers guide her back to where he wants her, the cold metal of talons lightly grazing her throat. Moira stills her body, though his touch only spurred the warring feelings within her into more thrumming chaos. “Moira. Trust me. You must let me in.” 

Though she’s sure that the intended meaning behind his words was far different than the images that entered her mind unbidden, the idea of opening herself to him however he wishes becomes her focus. She doesn’t speak for fear of piercing herself upon his claws, but she lets the essence of that word -  _ yes _ \- suffuse her being. 

Her aetheric form softens under his, no longer distinct and walled off from him. Their colors merge and mingle, speaking to each other with the words of memory and wonder. Though she’s blind to the beauty of it that Elidibus sees, images begin slipping into her mind. 

_ Pages of notes are spread out before her, a tangled web of formulae and equations supplemented by hastily drafted notes and diagrams. The answer is there, she’s sure, but it refuses to speak to her. As much as she hated to ask for help, if it meant speaking again to the man who was slowly becoming her unofficial mentor, maybe it wasn’t so bad. She gathers up armfuls of paper, shoving them precariously into her notebook before rushing out of her study.  _

_ “I suppose I have a moment.” He places her notebook on the table with great care, then pulls back his hood so he can have a better look. Messy white bangs spill out over the top of his mask, making her fight to still her erratic breathing. This is beyond what she’d hoped for - the two of them in his office and a rare glimpse at the man beneath the cowl. “Let’s see what you have here, shall we?” Elidibus grasps his white mask with his thumb and index finger and turns do her. “Do you mind if I…?”  _

_ No longer able to form words, she merely nods at him. She holds her breath, waiting to see the face of the man she had already fallen for from word and deed alone. He removes the mask, revealing a handsome, hawkish nose and keen silver eyes that seem to draw her in.  _

The vision shifts and she sees herself from another’s eyes, though with the white mask and copious grey robes, she’s not sure how she knows it is her. Yet despite being covered so, the thought comes to mind that she’s a thing of beauty and brilliance. And… 

_ He hopes he’s not being too forward, but even if he can never find the words to express how he feels, he still wants her to see him. Her notes are nothing shy of genius, and he’s hard-pressed to find what she’s missed. Tracing his fingers along the paths her quill has tread, he’s distracted by idle curiosity. He can’t help wondering what she thinks of him. But judging by the way she speaks of one of their peers, he’s better off quashing that hope. That kind of envy causes senseless unrest and there’s no place for that kind of silliness at the Capitol. If he wants to be taken seriously as a candidate for Emissary, he needs to bury these feelings before they make a fool of him.  _

_ For a moment, he considers turning her away. Were he to insult her work, she would leave him be and he could stop entertaining these pointless thoughts. But she deserved better, and a future where her genius was quashed so would be a horribly lackluster place. “Ah, I see the problem. It is a very small thing, so do not feel bad for having missed it.”  _

_ “What is it?”  _

_ Elidibus turns to her and smiles. “Rather than show you, let us discuss the nature of your project and I believe you will see it too.”  _

_ She huffs in frustration. “I’ve been looking at it for days! It’s not there!”  _

_ “Now, now. Be rational. Think.”  _

Two souls, one gleaming and flowing like mercury, the other a vibrant shade of blue of the sky the moment before twilight descends, dance with each other in a space beyond space. They entwine and spiral, blend and mingle. In seeing themselves through the soul of another, all pretense is cast aside, nothing left hidden. 

Though his body is made of little else than memory and expectation, he knows it is different for her. Elidibus gathers much of his aether back into his form and opens his eyes. The woman before him, Moira - _ how could he have forgotten that was her name in those days too?  _ \- shudders. A single tear rolls down her cheek. “Elidibus… how?” 

“I’m a fool. In my single-minded focus on our goal, I never thought to look to the color of your soul. More the fool am I for never realizing how you felt in those days.” 

Her response comes as a pulse of emotion through their remaining aetheric commingling. It is the raging fire of mortal needs, a gentle and nurturing rain, and all the stubbornness of Titan. She drops from her chair to stand before him. Keenly, she feels the lack of uncertainty and hesitation that would normally accompany a first meeting like this. Before the thoughts were even fully formed, he fulfills her request, throwing back his hood and letting his mask vanish. With its sharp red beak no longer in the way, Moira pulls him down into a hungry kiss. Elidibus returns it eagerly, thousands of years of vague longing finally given form. 

_ How could I have seen you as my enemy?  _

_ Your memory was shattered along with everything else, Moira.  _

_ Hydaelyn took you/me from me/you.  _ ** _Never again_ ** _ .  _

Without breaking the kiss, Moira guides her spectral lover with her towards her bed. They tumble down together, his robed form covering hers. She stops to catch her breath, and to look at the man who gazes down upon her, silver eyes full of adoration and need. Her embrace is cautious, mindful of the metal adornments on his robe. Her fingers rove over the curving spines on his back, feeling them for the first time. “The wings of Zodiark,” he says softly, “and His halo.” 

“I could see Him through your eyes. His summoning saved the star, but Hydaelyn…” 

He holds a finger to his lips, bidding her silence. “There will be time to speak of this later. What has been written will be unwritten.” Elidibus wills his aether to meet hers again, seeking not to blend again, but to trace along the curve of her neck and down across her shoulders beneath her robe. She trembles underneath him, savoring the warm and tingling sensation, wanting more. Though her clothing seems no barrier to him, her body still craves more contact, and she undoes the clasp at her neck. Carefully he slips his clawed fingers beneath the fabric, spreading open the top half of her robes. She wriggles her arms out of the sleeves, wrapping them around his neck so that she may kiss him again. 

Surprising though it was that she enjoys the cold metal touch of his talons, he would not deny her more of what she craves. He idly traces them down her neck, following the curve of her collarbone, pressing ever so lightly at the hollow at the base of her throat. They are not quite sharp enough to break skin but the promise of danger still leaves her writhing under him, torn between seeking escape and wanting more. 

More she shall have. Elidibus moves so that he’s kneeling between her knees and guides the robe to fall away from her form entirely, leaving her naked before him. He falls upon her again, his forearms above her head. This time she opens to him, letting his tongue entwine with hers, moaning into his mouth. She hears the leather of his gloves creaking as he grasps a fistful of bedding, thrilling to the sound. He shifts so that he has a hand free to roam over her body. The pointed tips of his sleeve tickle at her ribs as he slides his gloved hand down to her hip. Moira bucks her hips under him and he digs his fingers into her soft flesh, ornamental claws threatening tender skin. “I want to feel more of you,” she rasps. 

“All that I am is yours and ever has been,” he mutters against her neck. He sits up again and she follows him, tracing her fingers along the pattern on the front of his robe, until purple fades into gold where the curves dip between his thighs. She marvels at how this deadly man of wicked sharpness and sorcery is infinitely gentle with her, yet she can’t help wanting to see just what he’s capable of. 

Through their connection, he senses her craving and obliges. With a hand splayed on her chest, between her breasts, he forces her back down to the bed, earning an appreciative moan. She tests him, confirming that she can’t move under his hold, can’t fight this, and the fire building within her ignites. Purple tendrils of aether tinged in black expand from his hand, flitting over her body. This time it’s almost hot enough to burn, but never stays in one place long enough to do harm, only to excite her fears and her flesh. He wills the smallest fraction of lightning aether into the spell to tickle at her sensitive skin as the threads of aether lap over her ribs, down to her hips. Moira’s look of panicked ecstacy makes his aether shiver against hers. 

Elidibus releases his hold on her, leaving the last vestiges of his magical creation to flit over her as it desired. Aether is replaced by the feeling of his claws dragging over her belly, leather gripping her hips, cool metal talons biting into her thighs. He spreads her wide before him, earning flashes of eager anticipation from her. Though he doesn’t have to ask it of her aloud, he wants to be sure he’s not overriding her will. “May I share in what you feel this evening?” 

Behind the question is the understanding that his body doesn’t experience sensation in the same way as hers does. Though he survived the Final Days, Zodiark’s gift and years of traversing the rift had changed his form in ways that hadn’t mattered to him until tonight. “Yes, my love. My pleasure is yours.” 

He smiles down at her and closes his eyes for a moment. Mercury and twilight blue meet and entwine, blending just so. Drinking deeply of her lust, he lets it suffuse his body and merge with his own needs. The white robes of office that have been part of his form for centuries dissipate with most of the rest of his garb, leaving him naked but for one glove. He had some hesitation about revealing himself as such but he can feel her acute appreciation of his form as a powerful undulation within their connection, and so within himself. Not since the culmination of the Fifth Ardor has he felt such pride. 

As he trails those claws along her thighs, he shares some of that joy with her. A future where there can be peace again. Where she can live in contentment rather than strife and constant servitude to others’ fear. The promise of Zodark is a quiet undercurrent to the roaring waves of ecstasy that crash over her when he finally drags the back of one of his talons through her wet folds. Moira cries out, that sharp note reverberating through him as well, awakening a fire within him. He teases her a few moments more, licking his lips as he taps the tip of a claw to her swollen clit before letting the glove dissipate. 

Voice husky with their shared passion, he asks, “Are you ready, my Moira, my fated one?” 

“Yes, Elidibus - please!” 

He kneels over her, spreading her wide as he slides his cock into her, letting his aether run wild and dark, heavy rippling currents that reach further than his flesh can. They gasp in tandem, her bliss expanding and contracting within him, coiling up tight as he thrusts into her over and over. Moira grips his shoulders, pulling them together for another fierce kiss. Sensations mirrored and multiplied between their souls and bodies, it doesn’t take long before their pleasure crests together. Not cursed with one particular limitation of the flesh, he only pauses for her to catch her breath before he continues, both of them savoring the union until Moira’s body can take no more. 

No further words needed, he pulls out of her and gathers his aether within again, but for enough of a connection to share her contentment when she snuggles up to his chest to rest. Elidibus sleeps not, but they both share her dreams of a brighter tomorrow through this sacred union of past and present, of light and dark. 


End file.
